The thin arch of the waning moon reflects on the water’s surface causing it to glisten like a pearl. Memory is a mirror, casting spells of distant dreams. The starlight of the mind begins to unfurl. The Raven comes to me in the forest. His eyes are the color of mystery. He bids me to search my dreams. My cheeks blush like storm clouds at sunset as he strips my heart bare, clad only in the silk of moonbeams. “Do not despise pity that is the gift of a gentle heart,” Raven beseeches, his thoughts alluring in the night. Shimmering wingtip skims the surface of the pools of childhood visions. The ripples settle into a tranquil new sight. Were the breath of my heart to take visible form, ever would it appear like the Raven. All disappointment, longing and pain is banished into a chaotic void, flying away on Raven’s wings, forever forsaken.

Speak only with thine eyes, A word from thine lips utter not. Betwixt the moon and the dawn, Silence giving consent to the passion which is sought. Not a single phrase shall we require If this be the love worth taking. Eyes, breath, and fingertips o'erflowing with passion And all human words forsaken. Lay with me on this field of Faire flowers, The silvery orb above burning bright. Kiss me in the shadows of thy embrace The stars and moon alone lending your eyes their light. For I shall take full meaning from your glances. Thy touch shall speak to my heart. For this is what shall stay with me after the cruel dawn When time requires we must part.

Her cheeks so brightly burn As the hand of experience brushes Against her timid flesh. She quivers in surprise as Bashful tears drop down Onto her maiden breast. She murmers her protests Against the lips Which seek out her desire. Swooning against feelings Of spiraling downfall This love anew inspires. "I hath bathed this morn In cleansing waters," Thinks the maiden so chaste. "How could it be That still I burn, The fire consuming me with such haste?" As coppery curls fall To shroud her face in shame, Adonis rests his hand on her breast. Softly, he blows To dry the tears And put her spirits to rest. "Fear not maiden, queen of womanly virtues. Let the night's sweet rapture assure thee That by giving thy hand, And by giving thy heart, Love's precious carress can cure thee. Remove the doubts From thy unyielding heart. Offer thy love, I beseech thee." Said Adonis to His blushing Venus. "All love's sweet lessons I'll teach thee."

What did Guinevere look like? Was her hair a golden spun halo As myths do suppose? Were her eyes the color of indigo, Her skin an ivory miracle, Her lips a delicate rose? Could it be she was a bit more familiar? ‘Twas perhaps not dazzling beauty Which made her so alluring. She could have been any woman. The passions held in her heart Have made her so enduring.

Who is this Woman of Dream? I know not much about her. She is still a mystery to me. I look at her face; her eyes draw me in. Tender creature, her touch like silk, An inner beauty that radiates; Beauty that cannot be described. A voice like the beating of angel's wings. Sweet carress upon my soul Tender touch to bring me great joy I long for the day You enter my life once again. Haunting ghost in the night Could you possibly exist for me? Childlike woman of many beauties Mother, sister, lover, and friend. I look into your eyes And see the place I have searched for. No words, no actions, just a look; Others cannot hear the words spoken in silence. Am I doomed never to touch you? I do so wonder if you'll become real. Time to return to my world of dreams To be with you again, if only for a moment.